


this mouth that's full of dynamite

by embellished



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:07:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embellished/pseuds/embellished
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb is fed up with the sexual tension between him and Theon, but Theon's happy living in denial. So Robb decides to relate to Theon all the fantasies he's had about them. In very graphic detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this mouth that's full of dynamite

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/1704.html?thread=66728#t66728) for the asoiaf kink meme.

It means nothing.

It’s a day like any other, and Robb is in the yard practicing his swordsmanship with Jon and a few other men. Theon doesn’t like the sword – he says it feels heavy and ungainly in his hands. But Rodrik insists on a certain level of proficiency with all arms, so sometimes Theon will pick up a wooden sword and spar with the others, just to show that he can.

This day, he is paired up with Robb. They parry lazily for a few minutes, the dull clack of wood hitting wood reverberating around the yard. And then Theon sweeps high. In one smooth motion Robb ducks underneath, gets Theon on his back foot and knocks him to the ground. He touches the point of his sword to Theon’s chest, gentle tap against his heart, then turns to smile at the group of women from around the castle who gather to watch the men train.

Both of his sisters are there, and while Sansa claps, a proud little smile on her face, Arya suddenly gasps and points. Robb turns on instinct, only just in time to block Theon’s cutting blow. 

Out of nowhere they’re sparring again, but there’s something different in the air between them this time – a kind of desperate, frantic energy. Theon’s swings are wild and unstudied and Robb has to work hard to match them, return them. He knows that Rodrik is yelling advice at him, that the serving girls are cheering from the sidelines, but all he can hear is his own ragged breathing and the pounding of his heart.

He’s not sure when they lose the swords, but suddenly it’s just hands, shoving and grabbing and pushing. They tumble together to the ground, a tangle of limbs wrestling furiously for no reason Robb can understand. Somehow Theon gets the upper hand – he’s always been fast – and then quick as lightning Robb’s on his back, arms pinned to his sides. Theon’s above him, breathing hard, dark hair falling forward over his flushed face. He’s straddling Robb’s thigh, a knee run up high between Robb’s legs, and all of a sudden Robb is acutely aware of the fact that his cock is painfully hard in his breeches.

Panic and humiliation force him into action, so he lurches up, knocking Theon right off him. Theon lets him go, and Robb stalks off without looking back.

He shuts himself away in his room for hours, replaying the scene in his mind. He analyses every action, every emotion, tries to understand why his body betrayed him like that. He finds no answers, so simple desperation leads to his last resort. Climbing the stairs to Maester Luwin’s chambers, he shamefacedly retells the whole story.

“Is there something wrong with me?” he finishes quietly.

Luwin gazes steadily at him for a long moment, then smiles. “Robb, you are young. At your age these things often happen for no reason whatsoever. And while you are fighting… well, the blood is hot, and many men experience the same reaction. It’s completely normal. It means nothing.”

 _It means nothing._ Robb exhales, thanks the maester and leaves. He feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. It means nothing.

Which means that Theon’s erection digging into Robb’s hip had meant nothing either.

-

It might have meant nothing, but still, something changes after that day. Robb finds his eyes following Theon wherever he goes, catches himself paying undue attention to everything he says and does.

Sometimes he notices Theon approach a pretty young girl, watches as he places his hand gently at the base of her spine. He sees the way Theon smiles, and is overcome by a strange, hot feeling snaking up through his chest. He wonders what he’d have to do to see Theon smile that way at him.

He looks away then. He doesn’t want to see what happens next. He tries not to think about what Theon does with his conquests, tries not to listen when Theon brags to the men within his earshot. He doesn’t want to picture it – the lazy roll of his hips as he fucks them into the mattress, his long fingers carding through their hair as they suck his cock.

But no matter what he does, at night the images come back to him. Visions of pale skin, red smirking lips, fingers that are so quick and sure with a bow and arrows. And he curls his hand between his legs, moving slow at first and then faster, faster, until his hips snap forward and he buries his groan in his pillow. 

He tries to think of someone else, he really does. He takes one of the kitchen maids into his bed. She’s a slender whip of a girl, narrow hips and no breasts to speak of. He likes her dark hair and the way she asks no questions – the way she doesn’t say anything when he closes his eyes and moans the wrong name. But it’s no good. Nothing helps. Weeks pass and Robb can no longer deny what – _who_ – he wants. 

-

It is the purest form of torture, to know what he wants and to have it so unattainably far away. He is distracted in his lessons, sloppy on the training field. One evening his lord father even comes to sit by him, asks gently if there’s anything on his mind. All Robb can do is deny it, face burning at how obvious he’s become.

He needs some time alone, to sort through his thoughts and clear his head. So he heads down to the hot pools, thinking that a long bath might just be the answer he’s been looking for.

Immersing himself in the water, he lets the steam coil up around him and curl his hair tight. He is just starting to get comfortable, the warmth soothing his tense muscles and washing away his troubles, when suddenly trouble walks right back through the door.

Theon undresses slowly, first removing his boots, then his doublet, then his breeches, and Robb just watches like he’s helpless to look away. Naked, he slips into the pool. And of course they’ve bathed together hundreds of times before – soaked companionably in the warm water until their fingertips came up all wrinkly. But this time… this time feels different. 

Theon approaches Robb – too close, not close enough, Robb doesn’t know – and submerges himself totally before coming up dripping. 

“So, I hear you’re fucking one of the kitchen girls,” he says, and there’s a strangely intense, unreadable look in his eyes. 

Robb swallows. The air somehow suddenly seems too hot, too close; he can’t drink enough of it in. He wishes they were dressed, that they were elsewhere, that they weren’t having this conversation. Theon’s staring at him and his voice feels stuck in his throat. “Yes,” he answers eventually. 

“Good. Good.” Theon runs his fingers through his hair, rubs his cheek, finally folds his arms like he’s trying to trap his wandering hands. “I mean, she is, isn’t she? She’s good? She sucks your cock?”

Robb doesn’t know what to say to that. The conversation seems to carry a hidden weight that he’s not sure he understands, and he can’t think straight when Theon’s naked and standing only a few feet away. Robb’s hands ache to reach out and touch – to swipe away a stray bead of water on Theon’s collarbone, to tuck a wet tendril of his hair back behind his ear. His cock is hard between his legs and he’s stupidly glad the water comes up to his chest so Theon can’t see. His mind’s in a whirl and his heart is thundering in his chest and _gods_ , he’s just completely out of his depth. He wants to grab Theon and kiss him breathless. He wants to sink beneath the water and stay there until Theon’s washed and gone.

Theon seems oblivious to Robb’s unease, and when Robb doesn’t answer he just smiles, bright and sharp as a knife. “Good. That’s good. Of course, you’d better make sure she’s taking her moon tea. Don’t want to put a bastard in her belly. Not like your lord father. Don’t need anymore snow around Winterfell, Stark.”

“You’re one to talk, Greyjoy,” Robb bites back, finally snapping against the tension between them. “You’ve fucked your way through half the girls in the castle. You’re the one who should be worrying about _moon tea_.”

Theon laughs at that, but it sounds wrong – too loud, too brittle. “Very true,” he says. “Now that you mention it, I just fucked a chamber maid with the sweetest little mouth. She did this thing with her tongue…”

He keeps talking, but all Robb can hear is his blood is rushing in his ears. He still can’t quite seem to catch his breath and together with the thick, oppressive heat of the room it’s making him light-headed. His mind feels hazy, like all of this is some strange dream. A kind of dizzy recklessness buzzes through his veins and suddenly he blurts out, “Why don’t you show me?”

Theon stops mid-sentence, stares at him with huge, dark eyes. The silence is overwhelming and Robb is hyperaware of the sound of their quickened breathing, the gentle lapping of the water. He feels hot in a way that has nothing to do with the warmth of the pool around him.

There’s a moment, a fraction of a second, where he thinks he sees something in Theon give. Maybe his arms drop, maybe he takes a tiny step closer. But then out of the quiet comes the sound of heavy footfalls – bare feet on stone, approaching quickly. Hodor runs into the room, completely nude, and dives happily into the water. He splashes contentedly, greets Robb with a, “Hodor, Hodor.”

Without a word, Theon slips away.

-

Robb doesn’t see Theon for a few days after that, except perhaps across the yard or in the hall at mealtimes. He strongly suspects he’s avoiding him, and the idea twists like a knife in his chest. He knows he has to do something. He has to address whatever it is that hangs heavy between them now, because the alternative is to let Theon go. And above everything else Robb can not do that.

So he is patient. He waits for the right moment, and it comes one night when his father is feasting a visiting southron lord. Robb’s not quite sure which southron lord – usually he’d pay more attention, as befits the future lord of Winterfell, but this night his mind is elsewhere. And the Dornish red is flowing, so by the end of the meal nobody cares much that he doesn’t know names and titles. Or that he seems distracted. Or that at the first opportunity he stands and leaves.

Theon’s down at one of the long tables, seated on a bench next to a young redheaded girl who Robb assumes is in the service of the visiting lord. The pretty, laughing girl commands his attention, so Theon doesn’t notice Robb sitting on his other side until it is too late. 

“Hello Theon,” he says. Theon twists sharply in his seat and Robb nods in greeting. 

Theon looks suspicious, cornered and uncertain, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he just inclines his head and turns quickly back to his guest. 

It’s a dismissive gesture, but Robb is undeterred. He spreads his legs, lets his thigh rub suggestively down the length of Theon’s own. He feels Theon’s body stiffen at the touch and smiles to himself. He leans in close then, reaching over to take his goblet of wine, and takes the opportunity to murmur in Theon’s ear. 

“Looking for someone to suck your cock tonight?

Theon’s fist reflexively clenches around his own goblet. He determinedly does not look in Robb’s direction.

“Because I would do it,” Robb continues, his voice pitched low. “If you asked me to I would get under the table and suck you off right now.”

Theon’s whole body jerks at that, and he stands so abruptly he makes the whole bench shake. “Pardon us,” he says to the bewildered girl beside him, and then he marches from the room.

Robb follows, half a step behind as they stride through Winterfell’s twisting corridors. Finally Theon leads them into a room, and Robb notes with some surprise that it’s his bedroom. He’d assumed that Theon would want to stay away from somewhere so personal, so intimate, and the fact that he hasn’t gives Robb reason to hope. 

Theon slams the door behind them and then walks over to stand in front of his bed, arms folded tight. 

“What do you want, Robb?” he asks. 

And there are a thousand ways Robb could answer, but he goes for the simplest.

“I want _you_ , Theon. I can’t stop thinking about you. I only took that girl to bed because she reminded me of you.”

Theon inhales sharply and his arms fall to his sides. But his eyes are locked on Robb, something burning in his gaze. So, encouraged, Robb continues.

“I touch myself at night and pretend it’s your hand, or your mouth – fuck – I _dream_ about you sucking my cock. Your lips around me, your teasing tongue bringing me to the edge.”

Theon’s breathing shallowly now, his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallows, and Robb is seized by the same giddy feeling as that night in the hot pool. He doesn’t know if this is about confession or seduction or something else entirely, but he can’t seem to stop the words tripping off his tongue. “I thought about sucking you off, too. Lying in bed and mapping your skin with my lips – from your throat to your nipples all the way down to your cock. I want your cock in my mouth. I want to know how it tastes, the sounds you’d make as you come down my throat. I want you to shove me to my knees and fuck my mouth. I – _gods_ , Theon – I just want it so much.” 

“Robb…” Theon’s voice is cracked like it’s been drawn from somewhere deep inside him. “Don’t…”

“That isn’t all I want,” Robb says hotly, and takes a step closer, and then another until they’re standing toe to toe. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to shove my breeches down and take me. In the stables, in the armoury, in the kitchen, I don’t care. And maybe I’ll fuck you too but more than anything I want the burn of your cock inside me, stretching me open, hitting all the spots that will make me scream your name. I’ve used my fingers, you know – pushed three into my arse and fucked them like a whore. But they were never enough. I need _you_. I have to… please…”

He’s breathing hard now, finally out of words. He drags a knuckle up the hard line in Theon’s breeches, then weighs it in his palm. 

“May I?” he asks, and Theon lets out a kind of choked noise that sounds halfway between a sob and a moan.

But then he nods, and Robb sinks to his knees without hesitation. He makes quick work of Theon’s laces and in one motion he tugs his breeches and smallclothes down to his knees. Theon’s cock is flushed dark with blood, jutting up towards his stomach. Robb wraps his fingers around the base and leans in, takes just the tip into his mouth. He swirls his tongue a little, hears Theon’s breath hitch above him. 

He slowly slides his lips down further, trying to get used to the stretch in his jaw, the feeling of Theon hot and hard on his tongue. Robb can’t quite believe this is happening, that Theon’s cock is actually in his mouth – his fucking _mouth_ – and he can’t get enough. He rises up on his knees so that he can take more – the angle is better this way and he wants to take as much as he can, wants to take all of it. He knows that he’s drooling, and he tries to swallow around Theon’s cock. Theon gasps at that, so Robb does it again. 

“Fuck, _Robb_ ,” Theon groans, voice wrecked, and Robb feels a tremor run sharp and sudden through his whole body. He realises then how desperately Theon’s trying to keep his hips still. 

He looks up and sees Theon watching him, looking down with dark eyes and open, panting mouth. Robb holds his gaze as he starts bobbing his head, wanting to lock the image into his memory forever. 

He starts moving in a fast rhythm, rolling his tongue, sucking hard until he feels his cheeks hollow. Theon’s hands come down to twist in Robb’s hair, clenching hard and relaxing with every ragged breath, like he wants to abandon all restraint and just pull Robb closer. 

Robb pulls away with an obscene pop, licks his lips and looks up at Theon. “It’s okay. You can,” he says, and Robb doesn’t even know the word for the hoarse, strangled noise Theon makes in reply. 

Hesitantly, Theon’s fingers slip down to cradle the back of Robb’s head. He guides Robb forward and Robb lets himself be led, and when his lips brush against Theon’s cock he swallows it down again. Theon sets the pace this time, holding Robb’s head still as he thrusts into his mouth. Robb’s eyes water when Theon’s cock hits the back of his throat but he can’t make himself care, not when Theon’s moaning his name in a way he’s only dreamed of. 

He can feel the thrusts getting shorter, jerkier. Robb knows Theon’s close, can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling. He doesn’t need his breathless warning – _“Robb, Robb, fuck, I’m…”_

He sucks harder, swirls his tongue, and Theon groans deep and loud as he comes down Robb’s throat. 

Robb swallows what he can, chokes out the rest across the cold stone floor. Theon pulls him to his feet and presses their lips together, his tongue curling into Robb’s mouth to chase his own bitter taste. The kiss is surprisingly soft as Theon’s fingers find Robb’s waistband, start pulling at the laces. Robb feels first his breeches and then his smallclothes slide down his legs, and then Theon’s hands are smoothing over his hips. His fingertips press into overheated skin, trail low over Robb’s belly like he wants to memorise every inch of skin. 

“Please,” Robb breathes against Theon’s lips. “ _Please_ , Theon…”

Theon smiles, then one of his hands slips down to wrap loosely around Robb’s cock. His strokes are slow and inexorable, down and up and down and up, and Robb makes a kind of whimpering noise because it’s just not _enough._

But then Theon’s free hand slides around to cup Robb’s arse. It squeezes once, like a promise of what’s to come, then slips up, up, until a finger finds his secret puckered skin. Not pressing in, like Robb wants – oh, gods, so desperately _wants_ – but merely touching, rubbing in tight little circles. 

“Next time,” Theon whispers hot against Robb’s ear, still stroking his cock at the same maddening pace. “Next time I’ll fuck you. We’ll go to the godswood and I’ll bend you over and take you from behind like one of your wolves, right where anyone could find us. I’ll make you come without even touching your cock.”

Robb whines, high and needy. He’s so hard he can barely think, and he doesn’t know whether to rock forward into the hand circling his cock or push back against the finger at his arse. Helpless, he lets his head drop onto Theon’s shoulder, each hot, hitching breath gusting across Theon’s collarbone.

And then, suddenly, Theon is moving his hand faster. He twists his wrist over the head, runs a blunt thumbnail down the slit, and – _seven hells_ – that finger is still rubbing in firm, steady circles right _there_. And it’s all too much. Robb howls as he comes hot and fast into Theon’s curled fist. 

Feeling warm and boneless, he slumps against Theon, who luckily catches him and guides him to the foot of the bed to sit.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Theon stripping off his clothes, pulling back the furs on his bed and climbing in. And Robb feels the air in his lungs dry up in a sudden bloom of panic because what if it’s all over now? What if Theon’s had his fun and now Robb is being dismissed like a common whore? He jerks off the mattress, grabs at his breeches when they slip down his thighs. Theon is making himself comfortable, rearranging the covers, and Robb feels sick to his stomach – what has he _done?_ He knows he should take the hint, should leave before he’s told and preserve what’s left of his dignity, but right then Theon looks up. 

He frowns at Robb, makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “What, are you waiting for a formal invitation? Come to bed.”

And just like that all of Robb’s fears are gone. He smiles like the sun, and a grin touches Theon’s lips in return as he pats the mattress next to him.

Robb goes. It means everything.


End file.
